"Shall we stop? Perhaps this shakes you too much?"
"No! Anything rather than fall into their hands."
"Yes, but still...."
"No, no--that's all right."
And he bit his lips to avoid crying out. I was very tired, and my head
felt at the same time heavy and yet light. My one desire was to sleep,
no matter where.
Hardly were we out of the wood when the battery halted in a field full
of wheat-sheaves near a village called La Malmaison. I threw myself
down on some straw. If we stayed there we should certainly not even
be able to sleep; the enemy was too close, and we should probably be
attacked at night. And my one thought was to sleep, to get far enough
away to sleep. I waited for the prophetic order "Unharness!" which
would leave us in this field to fight again in an hour's time--perhaps
at once. But other orders arrived, and off we rumbled once more,
through La Malmaison, which we found congested with troops in disorder.
Night fell. I had now reached the extreme limits of fatigue and began
to be less conscious of what was going on around me. As if in a dream
I saw the men huddled on the limber-boxes, their heads rolling on
their shoulders, and the drivers lurching from side to side on their
horses like drunken men. I still seem to hear a gunner of the 26th
Artillery, who, sitting on the ammunition wagon, was telling how the
three batteries which preceded us this morning on the road to Ethe were
caught by the German machine-gun fire and taken in column formation,
and how he himself had been able, thanks to the fog, to escape almost
alone.
We went on through the night, our wagons creaking and rattling
with a sound almost like a sort of cannonade. One of the whips was
dragging.... For a moment I thought I heard a machine-gun.... What an
obsession!... The column rolled on through the darkness, the monotonous
rumble of the wheels unbroken by an order or word of any kind.
About midnight, after a very long march, we again reached Torgny,
and encamped there. The roll was not even called. I threw myself
face-downwards on some hay in a barn, and it seemed to me, as I fell
asleep, that I was dying.
_Sunday, August 23_
This morning they let us sleep until past eight o'clock. After getting
up we at once led our horses down to the big stone trough in the
middle of the village. The church bells were ringing. So there were
still Sundays! Somehow that seemed strange! I was still sleepy and my
numbed limbs ached abominably, so that it was torture to get into the
saddle. How I longed for a day's rest!
As I was returning to the camp, Déprez at my side, we met Mademoiselle
Aline, in a light pink dress of flowery pattern, and very daintily
shod. She was doubtless going to Mass. She recognized us and waved her
hand, smiling.
At the camp we found them waiting for us.
"Hurry up now!"
"Bridle!... Hook in!"
"What? Are we going into action again?"
"Seems like it.... I don't know," answered Bréjard. "Now then!"
The two batteries now forming the Group, our own and the 12th (the 10th
had been taken by the enemy in the Guéville woods), started off along
the Virton road. It seemed that we were never to get a moment's respite.
But almost immediately we halted in double column on the grass by
the side of the road. On the hill-side were strong forces of French
artillery in position, the motionless batteries showing up like black
squares on the green slope.
The roll was called. One or two were missing from my battery. Bâton,
the centre driver of the gun-team, had been wounded in the head,
and had been left behind in the hospital at Torgny. Hubert, our
gun-commander, had disappeared, and so had Homo, another of the
drivers. The last time that I had seen Homo he was wandering across a
field swept by the German guns, a wild look in his eyes.
Lucas, the Captain's cyclist, was also missing, and this worried me
especially. He is always so cheerful, open-hearted, and amusing, and is
one of my best friends.
There was no news at all of our entire first line, conducted by
Lieutenant Couturier. Standing in a circle round the Captain the
detachments were reorganized. The battery had only three guns left, and
it was necessary to send to the rear the one with the broken hydraulic
buffer.
How tired I was! As soon as I stayed still I began to fall asleep.
Hutin opened a box of bully-beef for the two of us.
"Hungry, Lintier?"
"Not a bit.... And yet I've not eaten anything since the day before
yesterday!"
"Same here. Do you think we shall have any more fighting to-day?"
"I suppose we shall...."
Hutin thought a little.
"There's only one thing I love," said he, "and that is to be there."
"Yes, it's splendid."
"It's odd that we don't hear the guns to-day."
"They don't seem to have taken advantage of their victory yesterday in
order to advance."
"Well," said our gun-layer, "in my opinion we've fallen into an
ambuscade. They were waiting for us there, and they had got all the
ridges nicely registered. That's how they had us! But all that will
change!"
"I hope so! Oh, Lord, how tired I am! And you?"
"So am I!"
We each ate without much relish four mouthfuls of bully-beef and shut
the box again. Besides, the column was already beginning to move.
Striking across country we reached Lamorteau, a large village on the
banks of the Chiers, where we encamped near the river and waited for
orders.
The scene was soon brightened by smoke rising straight up in the still
air of the morning, which was already hot. The men made their soup
and the drivers went off to draw water for the horses, which were not
unharnessed.
Suddenly, on the bridge spanning the Chiers, Lieutenant Couturier
appeared at the head of his column, accompanied by Lucas. The latter
ran up to me.
"There you are!"
"There you are!"
"You devil! You did give us a fright!"
We grasped each other's hands, and that was all. But I felt immensely
relieved.
Hubert was also with them. Conversation became lively round the
camp-kettles, in which the soup was already steaming. Afterwards, no
orders having arrived, we slept, and at nightfall returned to Torgny to
camp there once more.
The Major ordered the horses to be unharnessed and, supposing therefore
that no danger threatened, I stretched myself and gave a yawn of
satisfaction. Then we bivouacked. What work! The guns are placed about
twenty yards apart. Between the wheels of two guns are stretched the
picket-lines, and, when the horses have been tethered to them, and the
harness arranged on the limber draught-poles, the park ought to form a
regular square.
We took off our vests, for it was still hot. Déprez was distributing
oats among the drivers who stood holding out the nosebags. Somebody
suddenly cried out:
"An aeroplane!"
"A German aeroplane!"
Right overhead, like a big black hawk with a forked tail, an aeroplane
was circling round and round. There was an immediate rush for rifles.
Lying on their backs in order to shoulder their guns, and half
undressed, their open shirts showing hairy chests, the men opened
a brisk fire on the German bird of prey, which was flying low. The
startled horses neighed, reared, and pulled this way and that, many
breaking loose and galloping off across the fields. The aeroplane
seemed to be in difficulties.
"She's hit!"
"She's coming down!"
"No! She's only going off!"
The men still continued firing, although the machine had been out of
range for some minutes.
At the drinking-place in the only street of the village there was
always the same crowd of men taking their horses to be watered, some
mounted bare-back, others led; the same shouting and swearing to get
room at the trough, greetings from those who recognized each other,
oaths from others leading their animals who were hustled by the men on
horseback--in short, all the life and movement of an artillery camp. A
Chasseur, shouting profanely, forced his way through the throng. He was
assailed with cries.
"Here, you aren't in a bigger hurry than any one else!"
"Yes, I am! Get back to camp quick! I've got orders!"
"What's the matter now?"
"All you chaps have got to clear off! No time for amusement, this, you
know; the Germans are coming up. There'll be some more fun in a minute!"
He spurred forward, and we hurried back to our guns. Was it a surprise?
We limbered up at full speed, and before we had even had time to button
our shirts the first gun left the park.
"Forward! March.... Trot!"
We had thrown the nosebags, still half full of oats, on the ammunition
wagons and gun-carriages, and once on the way it was necessary to lash
them so that they should not be shaken off. Hastily throwing on their
clothing, the men jumped on to the limbers as best they could, while
the battery moved forward at a brisk pace on the uneven road.
We kept continually looking over our shoulders, towards the hills on
the east dominated by Torgny, from which direction we expected to see
the heads of the enemy's column emerge at any minute. I momentarily
awaited the crackling of a machine-gun or the scream of a shell.
The road in the distance, as it wound through the valley, was black
with horses and ammunition wagons advancing at a trot and raising thick
clouds of dust. Batteries were also to be seen rolling across country.
What was the meaning of this sudden retreat? The whole day long we
had only heard the guns from far off, towards the north. We had now
even ceased to hear them altogether. Had we been surprised, then, or
nearly surprised? But one never knows what has really happened on such
occasions!
We took up our position on the ridge between the Chiers and the Othain,
where the whole country, its contours and colours continually changing
in the bright sunshine, had seemed to smile at us upon our arrival.
It seemed to me as though the memories awakened by the majesty and
stillness of the scene were deeply rooted in the past. I felt as though
I had aged ten years in one day--a strange and painful impression.
Our guns were pointing towards Torgny and the plateau above it. At
any moment the order might come to bombard the unfortunate village.
Possibly, even, a shell from my gun might blow to bits the very house
which had given us shelter, and kill the woman whose hospitality had
meant so much to us! That was an awful thought! Oh, this ghastly war!
But night fell, and as yet the Captain had seen no signs of movement
on the plateau. Behind us the narrow valley of the Othain was slowly
becoming shrouded in shadows. The limbers were stationed 200 yards
from the battery. All fires were forbidden--even lanterns might not
be lit, as our safety on the morrow might depend upon our remaining
undiscovered. The night was clear, but a thin mist partially veiled the
light of the stars, and there was no moon. Motionless, and clustered
together in dark groups, the horses quietly munched their oats. A
far-reaching reddish glow lit up the eastern horizon--doubtless La
Malmaison on fire--and as the darkness deepened other lights appeared
on the right and left of the main conflagration. On every side the
villages were burning. Against the fiery sky the haunches of the
horses, their heads and twitching ears, and the heavy masses of the
guns and limbers stood out like silhouettes.
Standing side by side with our arms folded, Hutin and I watched the
flaming countryside.
"Oh, the brutes, the savages!"
"So that's war, is it?"
And we both lapsed into silence, struck dumb by the same feeling of
futile horror, and filled with the same rage. I saw a yellow gleam pass
across the dark eyes of my friend--a reflection of the holocaust.
"And to think we can't prevent it!... That we're the weaker! Oh, Lord!"
"That'll come in time."
"Yes, that'll come ... and then they'll pay for it!"
We threw ourselves down on the straw heaped up behind the guns. A
searchlight from Verdun swept the country at regular intervals, and
the inky sky was lit up by the visual signalling. Huddled together we
gradually fell asleep, a single sentry, wrapped in his cloak, standing
motionless on guard.
_Monday, August 24_
It was still night when I was awakened and saw a dark shadow standing
over me.
"Up you get!"
"What time is it?"
"Don't know," answered the sentry who had roused me. The villages were
still burning. Feeling our way, and almost noiselessly, we harnessed
our teams, and the limbers came up. A steep decline ... the stones
rolled. In the darkness the horses might stumble at any moment. The
brakes acted badly, and we hung on to the vehicles, letting ourselves
be dragged along in order to relieve the wheelers, which were almost
being run over by the heavy ammunition wagon.
* * * * *
At early dawn we passed through a slumbering village. Stretched on
the ground under the lee of the high wall surrounding the church five
Chasseurs were sleeping. Twisted round one arm they held the reins
of their horses, which, standing motionless beside them, were also
asleep. A pale, cold light was breaking through the fog, which had
collected at the bottom of the valley. It was very cold as we marched
along in silence, the men snoring on the limber-boxes. We were going
westwards--retiring, that is to say. Why? Were we not in a good
position to wait for the enemy? Suddenly a silver sun shone through the
mist, surrounded by a halo of light.
After a long halt in a lucerne-field manured with stable refuse, the
smell of which remained in our nostrils, we took up position on a hill
near Flassigny. But hardly had we done so when fresh orders arrived,
and we started off again, always towards the west. In the space between
two hills we caught sight of a distant town--doubtless Montmédy.
About midday we halted in a valley near the river.
"Dismount! Unharness the off-horses. Stand easy!"
The sun was burning hot, and not a breath stirred in the heavy air.
Our bottles only contained a little of the Othain water, brackish and
tepid, but at any rate it served to wash in. The men went to sleep in
the ditches, the horses standing motionless, exhausted by the heat.
* * * * *
The evening was already advanced when our Group received instructions
to push on to Marville, presumably to camp there.
I recognized the place, for we had passed through Marville on our
way to Torgny. At that time it was a pretty little town with flowery
gardens and river-side villas surrounded by dahlias. Now, however,
the place was deserted. Large carts belonging to the Meuse peasantry
were waiting, ready to start, piled high with bedding, boxes, and
baskets. In one of them I caught sight of a canary-cage side by side
with a perambulator and a cradle. Women, surrounded by children, were
sitting on the heterogeneous heap, crying bitterly, while the little
ones hid their heads in their skirts. Some dogs, impatient to be off,
were nosing uneasily round the wheels of the carts. We asked these poor
people where they were going.
"We don't know! They say we've got to go.... And so we're going ... and
with babies like these!"
And they questioned us in their turn:
"Which way do you think we'd better go? We don't know!"
Nor did we. Nevertheless, we pointed out a direction.
"Go that way! Over there!"
"Over there" was towards the west.... Oh, what misery!...
* * * * *
We bivouacked on the outskirts of the town. Near-by flowed a river,
on the opposite side of which two dead horses were lying in a
stubble-field.
The Captain of the 10th Battery, which we had believed lost, arrived on
horseback at the camp. He told the Major that in the Guéville woods he
had managed to save his four guns, but had had to leave the ammunition
wagons behind. His battery had taken up position somewhere on the hills
surrounding Marville on the south-east, and he had come to get orders.
* * * * *
The rent made by a shell-splinter two days previously in the seat of
my breeches was causing me great discomfort. Divided between the wish
to patch it up and the fear lest the order might come to break up the
camp before I had finished, I let the quiet hours of the evening pass
without doing this very necessary work.
_Tuesday, August 25_